


Warm You Up

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Fluff, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He was, he had to admit, sorely tempted by Jamie’s suggestion that they stay under the furs till spring. It was so cosy – so safe. The cold couldn’t touch them, in their little fur tent. Nothing could touch them.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm You Up

The Doctor padded to the bed, his socked feet making a soft, barely-there pattering on the stone floor. Once at the bedside, he rubbed his hands together and dithered. He didn’t want to. He _really_ didn’t want to.

He was only putting off the inevitable. One – two – _three_. He ripped off his coat and dove into the mound of furs, squeaking at the cold all the way. He wriggled as far in as he could get and lay shivering, recovering.

The hump beside him began to shake and Jamie rolled over, sniggering at him. “Like a witch’s tit out there, aye?” he said from under a fur. “C’mon. It’s best to go all the way under.”

The Doctor ducked under the furs, into the dim space beneath that smelled of sweat and slightly of animal. “You know, I never did understand that expression,” he said. “Why would a witch’s tit be colder than anyone else’s tit?”

“I dunno.” Jamie scrubbed a hand over his face. “But I like hearin’ you say _tit_. It’s funny.” He shuffled closer, putting an arm around the Doctor’s waist.

“Tit, tit, tit,” said the Doctor. “Tit – mmph.” Jamie kissed him. “Mmm.” Their tongues brushed together, which was very nice, but then he got the giggles and had to stop.

They lay there under their furs, giggling, Jamie’s breath tickling his face and making him giggle harder. “Oh, goodness,” said the Doctor, slightly hysterical from the biting cold and the exhausting day they’d had. “Oh, oh.”

“Och,” said Jamie, ducking his head into the Doctor’s shoulder. “Let’s stay under here forever, aye? Let’s cuddle under here till spring comes.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Any number of reasons,” said the Doctor. “What would we eat?”

“Ach, fine,” said Jamie. “But I’m gonnae sleep for at least a week, you hear?” He snuggled still closer and kissed the Doctor’s cheek.

“I shall set my alarm,” said the Doctor. Jamie’s hair was itching his nose. He huffed a breath, blowing it away, but it flopped back.

“Mmm,” sighed Jamie. His hand ran down the Doctor’s front, playing with the fabric of his thin nightshirt – and settled – oh! – between his legs.

The Doctor squeaked. “Jamie?”

“What?” said Jamie, stroking him.

“Are you not – ah – too tired?”

“Never,” said Jamie, and yawned. “Best way to get warm. Take it from me.” He nuzzled at the Doctor. His hand stilled. “D’you not want to?”

“Of course I want to,” said the Doctor. As if he’d ever say no to Jamie. “I just – _ohhh_.” Jamie’s hand ran up his thigh and encircled him. He sighed, pressing a hand to Jamie’s slowly moving arm, urging him on. “Oh, yes. Good lad.”

“I’ll warm you up and then you warm me up,” said Jamie, stroking him lazily. “Fair?”

“Ahh,” said the Doctor, gripping his arm tighter. Jamie fisted a hand in his hair, and kissed him.

They kissed long and gentle, shivers running through him each time their tongues brushed, making little choked moans into Jamie’s mouth when his hand did something especially fun.

He was, he had to admit, sorely tempted by Jamie’s suggestion that they stay under the furs till spring. It was so cosy – so safe. The cold couldn’t touch them, in their little fur tent. Nothing could touch them.

They were nose to nose, Jamie’s fingers stroking the Doctor’s scalp as his hand worked, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He sighed happily and heard Jamie let out a soft laugh. “Hmm?”

“You’re doin’ that thing with your nose.”

“Hm? What thing?” The Doctor opened his eyes and oh, oh Jamie’s face was so close.

“This thing,” said Jamie, and did it, pushing down his nose and flaring his nostrils. The Doctor chuckled and kissed the tip of it, kissed Jamie’s cheek, and he was still laughing when he came.

It took him off guard. He wasn’t really ready, but he didn’t mind that. He liked when Jamie took him off guard, liked when it knocked the breath out of him. He rested his forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, breathing through his mouth, gasping out endearments. “Oh,” he said, “oh, Jamie – you star – you wonderful star, you –”

Jamie’s hand stroked the back of his head, gentling him. With a soft mumble, he nuzzled at the Doctor, kissing him, urging him onto his back. He climbed on top, the furs tenting around him. A little more light seeped in and the Doctor let himself admire Jamie, let his hands play up and down the boy’s sides.

“Mmm,” sighed Jamie. “Hang on.” He took his hands from the bed, and, quickly, shrugged off his nightshirt. He stuck an arm out from the furs – oh, he was braver than the Doctor by far – and tossed it away. “There.”

Probably not the wisest decision – he’d regret it come morning – but the Doctor wasn’t about to criticise, not with all that skin on view, all his to touch and admire. “Goodness, you’re warm,” he breathed, his hands gliding up Jamie’s chest.

Jamie beamed down at him and brushed a few strands of hair from the Doctor’s eyes, and kissed him soundly. “I want,” he said between kisses, “ _God_ , I want –” The Doctor’s fingers brushed a ticklish spot and he shivered, laughing a bit.

“What do you want?” said the Doctor softly. “What do you want, darling?”

“Mmm.” Jamie took his hand from the bed and touched, touched the Doctor’s stomach, his hip, his thigh. He ran his fingers from the Doctor’s knee to the inside of his thigh where he was shivery-soft and, ever so gently, pressed his legs apart.

The Doctor chuckled to himself at Jamie’s shyness – still so gentle, no matter how many times they did this – and reached for him. “That’s it,” he said, drawing Jamie closer. “That’s it.”

Jamie shifted atop him, gripped the Doctor’s knee – and slid himself between the Doctor’s legs, rubbing against his thighs with a low moan.

The Doctor sighed, and closed his legs, giving Jamie a gentle squeeze, and that made his lips buck, so eager, always so eager. He pressed his hands to the bed and rolled his hips again, and again, working himself back and forth between the Doctor’s thighs.

Closing his eyes, the Doctor moaned, squeezing his thighs together, relishing that delicious friction between his legs, the little noises of pleasure that fell from Jamie’s lips. As their bodies grew slick with sweat it grew still more delectable, slippery, easy, good; Jamie grunted and thrust his hips forward, pressing deeper, rubbing up against still more sensitive parts of the Doctor.

“ _Oh_ ,” said the Doctor, trembling, spent but still loving this, loving Jamie.

They were building up a lovely heat between them, the air growing hot and humid, like Jamie’s warm breath, like his slick skin; Jamie was all over him and all around him, enveloping him, ensnaring him.

Jamie was nuzzling at him, looking for kisses, and so the Doctor opened his eyes and kissed him, soft and wet and open-mouthed. He ran a hand up Jamie’s slick back and Jamie sighed at the contact, arching into the Doctor’s touch. His hands, flat on the bed, balled into fists, gripping the blankets tight. “Oh,” he said, and, “ _ohh_.” His eyes screwed shut, his nose wrinkling, and the Doctor wanted badly to kiss it, but he also wanted to watch.

“Ah,” said Jamie. “Ah. Ah –” His hand flew from the bed to the Doctor’s thigh, caressing, squeezing, holding on for dear life. He let out a happy bubbling laugh that turned quickly into a long groan of pleasure. He thrust once more against the Doctor; tensed up; and he was done.

His shoulders slumped. His arms went limp and he flopped gracelessly down atop the Doctor. “Mmmarhghh,” he said.

“I quite agree,” said the Doctor, putting his arms around Jamie’s waist, smiling, and Jamie was smiling too.

“What did I tell you?” he said drowsily. “All warmed up till morning, eh?”

“Ohhh yes.” The Doctor thought he might just be warm till next week.

“Mmm.” Jamie nuzzled at his chest. In the dim light his face was half in shadow. The Doctor could make out his lips, the shape of his nose, and traced them with the tips of his fingers.

Minutes passed in content silence. He could feel Jamie’s heartbeat against his chest, slowing, evening as he relaxed.

“Jamie?” he said. He gave him a little squeeze and a shake. “Jaaamie.”

“Hmm?”

“Tit.”

Jamie sputtered out a laugh, shaking, trembling atop the Doctor’s chest. He aimed a half-hearted punch at his arm. “Ach, you –”

The Doctor let his head loll back as he giggled.

“Tit yourself,” said Jamie. Laughter subsiding, he squished still closer to the Doctor, pulling him into a proper embrace. “Och. C’mere, _mo chridhe_.”

And oh, the Doctor thought his hearts might just melt. He smiled, a touch giddy with the joy of it all, giddy on Jamie.

Jamie, who was already asleep and snowing softly, quite, quite worn out by the day he’d had. The Doctor squeezed him and said, “sleep tight, you star you.”


End file.
